“Not all threads are meant to be followed.
But this one waits for you.”

Welcome to Threatwalker.
You are stepping into a world unraveling — slow, beautiful, terrible.
There are no heroes here,
only those who refuse to look away.

The rivers still shine, but their songs falter.
The grass still whispers, though it forgets the names it once knew.

It begins softly.
Light still drips through the trees.
The rivers hum their old songs in the distance.
But if you listen closely,
you will hear the cracks threading through the stones.
If you breathe deeply,
you will taste the dust rising from the bones of old cities.

Wonder lingers — stubborn, aching —
in a world that no longer remembers how to hold it.

You are not here to save it.
You are here to witness.

To walk here is to admit you still care,
even when caring feels like a dying art.

To choose, quietly,
what — if anything — you will carry forward.

You are not alone.
Others walk the disintegrating paths —
some to guard the last embers,
some to mourn,
some to watch something new arise from the dreams.

Each step costs more than you know.
Each breath carries more than you can hold.

Would you walk anyway?

And if you did —
which way would you turn:
toward the fading light,
or away into the deeper dark?